


stuck in (a shirt) love

by givelourrylove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, cheeky!Harry, idk how to tag this, shop assistant!harry, shy!Louis, theyre at a shop idk, this was dans idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givelourrylove/pseuds/givelourrylove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au where shy!louis gets stuck in a shirt at urban outfitters and cheeky!harry needs to help him</p>
            </blockquote>





	stuck in (a shirt) love

**Author's Note:**

> I AM BACK, MY FRIENDS  
> I decided to not continue "if you hold me that's okay" until i have an exact plan of what will be happening because I don't want everything to be shit just because I'm lazy and idea-less. I am awfully sorry about that but I will try to post more oneshots because I have tons of ideas, also I'm reading "How Fiction Works" by James Wood so I can actually improve my writing skills and stuff.  
> IF you want to be updated on what oneshot I will post when, you should follow me on twitter and/or tumblr (@givelourrylove; www.perksofshippingbullshit.tumblr.com, i know this is shameless self-promotion).  
> I would also love to work with y'all people If you have ideas on AU's that should become written etc. The proof that I actually do cooperate with people is that this little piece here was Dan's idea, so tHERE YOU GO DAN I HAVE TORTURED YOU LONG ENOUGH.
> 
> I hope that every single one of you enjoys this, I worked very hard on it.

This is the first time Louis enters _Urban Outfitters_ and he is totally not sure what to think of it. It’s kind of nice. The atmosphere. The people?

They sell old records and some band tee’s too. Louis likes it. He slowly strolls past racks of shirts he could never wear – too curvy – and jeans that won’t even fit him in his dreams.

There are only a few people at the store besides him, due to how Tuesday afternoon might not be the most common time to go shopping. Two blonde girls give him strange looks. Louis ignores them and clutches the straps of his _old school_ backpack he got from Zayn tighter.

Louis absolutely loved the backpack and Zayn immediately sent him here to grab more of this old school stuff, since he keeps claiming how poorly dressed Louis is.

There are a few more people downstairs; happily, Louis doesn’t feel so observed anymore. Either way, he keeps his eyes glued to the ground, unsure of where to look at. He’s afraid as soon as he touches a piece of clothing someone’s going to laugh at him for even _thinking_ it would suit him.

So he decides to go for some oversized sweatshirts. His fingers slip between different fabrics and patterns and he can’t quite decide which one will make him look the least ridiculous.

“Hey, there! Can I help you somehow?” A terribly high pitched voice rings from behind Louis. He cringes very slightly and quickly shakes his head before hastily longing for a random quite decent looking sweatshirt and rushing off to the changing rooms.

Louis doesn’t dare to look up. Kneading the soft colourful fabric in his cold hands, he patiently waits in line until one of the employees hands him this junk thing they give you there and accompanies him to one of the doors.

“Let me know if I can help you, yeah?”

_And holy fucking shit this guy is handsome._

That’s all Louis manages to see before the boy shuts the door with a soft yet awfully cheeky smile.

Louis thinks that yeah, this boy is sex on legs. Long, endless, skinny legs. Poor Louis, hasn’t even seen his perfectly ruffled curls yet. Or his plump pink lips and how they embrace every word that leaves them. Neither has Louis seen the impossibly hipster-ish style that boy had. And how perfect that guy would look, nestled in crisp white sheets smelling like sex.

Louis pinches his arm to get him back to reality. Tragic. He doesn’t have a chance with _sex on legs – guy_ anyway. Why does he even think about it?

Unhappy with being back in tragic reality he drops his backpack into the corner and strips off hisshirt. Louis sighs when he stares into the mirror, at the little curve his stomach makes and he lightly punches his own gut murmuring some curse words under his breath.

He’s too lazy to do something to make it disappear anyway, he then decides. So he quickly grabs the sweater and pulls it over his head.

And oh dear, what hell of a mistake that was.

Louis feels like he’s been squished into a toddlers ‘shirt. There is no way this sweatshirts’ size is bigger than XXS. Louis wants to sigh, but he can’t because quite apparently you need air for that, and breathing in is not possible while wearing this painfully tight piece of fabric.

He doubts that he’s ever looked more ridiculous. In fact, Louis wants to cry.

Trying to get this goddamned miniature piece of a sweatshirt off him, he stumbles lightly, bumping against walls. It doesn’t move one bit. Frustrating. Louis starts to find breathing harder every second.

He reaches behind his neck with his right hand and once again tries to pull it over his head but nothing. Is. Fucking. Happening.

Louis pulls, straining all the existing muscles in his arm (which are poorly few) and finally the shirt starts to move.

It’s over his head now. And that’s it. He is stuck. Louis tries hard to deny it, because

_he is stuck in a sweatshirt at Urban Outfitters and it’s embarrassing and he wants to die._

_Without wearing that damn sweatshirt, if that’s possible._

Louis is going to write a note for his mum to free him from this shirt when his funeral will take place. He doesn’t want to be buried in this mortifyingly tight fabric stretching across his tummy.

In addition to being stuck in a shirt at Urban Outfitters, Louis’ vision is… limited. If Louis were able to slouch his shoulders in despair, he would. _If only._

For the first couple minutes, Louis just stands there helplessly. He’s still trying to get out but all his attempts seem to end up as useless as his arms are; stuck in the sleeves of a soft sweatshirt. He then starts to estimate how long it takes normal costumers to try on _one_ piece.

It’s getting unrealistic, he decides after five minutes. But what is he supposed to do? Walk out and cry for help like a five year old, whom this shirt would most definitely fit?

Louis winces, bumps against the walls some more, more or less on purpose. He doubts that he has any other choice than going out and asking for help, no matter how humiliating it’s going to be.

Getting out of this closet is hard, _not necessarily harder than it was the first time, if you know what I mean,_ yet after another five minutes of trying Louis manages to unlock the door and hesitantly steps out.

“Uhm.”

_Someone shoot me._

“Uh… cute tall guy from before? I – uhm. I could use some help now, I guess… uhm.”

Louis then sneaks back into the changing room, waiting patiently until _cute tall guy from before_ is coming to save him from his sweater-misery.

“I’ll be here in a sec!” The deep voice sounds and Louis winces in pain and embarrassment when _Mister sex-on-legs_ approaches and he’s left standing idly in the changing rooms with his tummy exposed and his head trapped in a sweatshirt. Tragedy.

“I – Oh”

There is silence for about 0.2 seconds before _sex-on-legs_ starts cackling furiously and Louis can hear about 90 percent of his blood rushing to heat his cheeks. That is until _cutie_ starts to laugh even harder so that every other sound apart from this melodic giggle seemingly fades.

The boy is fucking _panting_ now and Louis wants to be upset and mad about this poor service for stuck costumers but he eventually grins and bites his lip to stop him because _sex-on-legs_ is so fucking cute.

“I – Sorry, buddy, but how, _how_ did you manage to do _that?”_ Cutie chuckles breathlessly and Louis thinks he can make out him fixing his hair from the gap where his head is supposed to go through.

“I-I don’t know… It’s. So small? I – I didn’t look at the size.” Louis murmurs, unsure if _cutie_ actually wanted an answer.

“Alright. Let’s get you outta here, then. What’s your name _cute-stranger-who-got-stuck-in-a-shirt?”_

“Oh- I uhm. Louis.” And for the first time in what seems like an eternity Louis is glad for the fabric covering his face because he is blushing _so_ hard at _cutie_ calling him cute. Cute.

“Hey, Louis. I’m Harry and you’re the very first person to ever ask me for help.” Cutie, whose name apparently is Harry, chuckles again and Louis is embarrassed but then he suddenly feels very very soft big hands touching his arms and he bites his lip even harder.

_Is that blood I can taste?_

“Is that good?” Cutie pie Harry asks and _yes this is good. Harry touching Louis is good._

“Yep.” Louis’ voice sounds horribly forced, not only because a way too tight sweatshirt is being pulled off his head, but also because a way too tight sweatshirt is being pulled off his head _by an awfully cute, tall and lanky and gorgeous boy. Fate or just luck?_

Cutie – Harry, is soft and gentle. Honestly, there is no way to peel off a shirt from a stranger more careful and gentle than Harry’s way to do so.

Louis doesn’t remember the last time he’s been touched so softly. _And Harry is just a bloody shop assistant._

It is then that Louis realized how bad he needs it. Needs someone.

However, he gently pulls the fabric over Louis head, careful not to get his hair caught somewhere, then he struggles a little _and it’s cute._

Louis blushes (he hates it) when the last thing left to do is get the sleeves off his arms and despite that he could totally do it himself, Harry just grabs the very ends of his sleeves, brushing Louis’ hands for some seconds and lingering there, and then pulls them off, placing the crumpled sweatshirt on one of the hangers.

“Good?” He asks and Louis just nods curtly, making an attempt of turning away from Harry since his torso is now completely bare and exposed and he does not appreciate Cutie looking at his little tummy or his chest or his hips or _at him being exposed at all._

It’s been a couple seconds and Harry is supposed to be… gone by now? But he’s still here? Staring.

“You’re really beautiful, Louis. ‘thought I’d tell you.” Harry shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world while there’s Louis’ head seemingly breaking into two pieces because _what did cutie just say._

There is no way he means it, so Louis laughs it off and crosses his arms in front of his still bare chest, partly to make him look tough, and partly (a little more of that) because he just needs to cover up a little. Irony.

Louis jumps when he feels Harry’s hands on his forearms, pushing them to the side to get a good view of his stomach, _If there even is something like a good view,_ Louis’ self-degrading mind adds.

“I uh-uhm. I’d rather not have you doing that” Louis gulps and he believes he can feel a droplet of sweat run down his forehead and along his eyebrow.

“And what about this?” Harry runs his big, _warm, soft hands_ down the bare insides of Louis’ arms and eventually gives his hot chest a slow stroke down until his hands rest right above the waistband of Louis’ boxers.

Louis wants to scream, that he’s _really really okay_ with Harry touching him like that but instead he just mewls and eventually _purrs_ a little, when Harry’s fingers absently draw little circles around Louis’ hipbones.

Harry then leans in (and down a little, because _wow, Louis is tiny)_ , fanning his breath that smells like coffee and woods (???) across Louis’ face. Not a second later Harry’s soft warm lips ( _does he use chopstick?)_ press on top of Louis’, whose knees buckle and give in, causing him to stumble into Harry, who – _of fucking course how else could it be –_ catches him and keeps him close to his warm body.

“Hey there, eager little boy” he mumbles into Louis’ hair and chuckles. Louis mumbles something neither of them can make out into the tall guy’s chest. He wonders if he can stay there for a while. Face buried in Harry’s warm and surprisingly cosy chest. Comfort.

Louis knows he should be uncomfortable because this is a ((cute)) strangers chest he’s leaning into, but he can’t bring himself to care.

And then Louis does something stupid. Something he never would have done If it wasn’t for this cutiepie with the cosy chest.

“Will you go out with me?” Stupid.

Louis looks up with hooded yet obviously frightened eyes. Harry looks down and laughs. Stupid.

Louis shouldn’t have asked. Why would _Mister sweet-pea-sexy-voice-featuring-sex-on-legs_ agree to go out with _Mister cant-fit-a-goddamn-shirt-and-needs-to-get-pulled-out-of-it_.

“Yes.”

“What?” Louis mumbles, his thoughts had drifted off and were now sort of blocking his throat.

“Yes, I would love to go out with you.” Harry smiled this _Augustus-Waters-smile_ – Louis couldn’t help himself – and gave Louis’ little button nose a short, playful lick, which was probably meant to be disgusting but turned out to be endearing as fuck.

“You do? W-wow. I – uhm – I’ll give you my number then, if that’s alright?”

Louis scrambles back and hastily looks for a pen in his backpack to scribble his number onto Harry’s forearm like in all the movies before 2009.

When he has finally found one, Harry has already stretched his arm out, offering beautifully bare skin to smear black ink on. Louis is careful, when he grips Harry’s arm. Harry smiles at the warmth radiating from Louis’ fingers, which gently grip his arm.

“Done.” Louis smiles all widely and steps back, withdrawing his touch.

“Such a perfect little thing you are, Louis.” The words seem to slip from Harry’s lips so easily, carefree. Louis beams. Hell, he fucking glows.

The last thing Louis feels before sex-on-legs-Harry walks out of the changing room with a little more skip in his gait is an all too faint kiss on his left cheek and instead of trying to capture it forever, Louis hopes to get this feeling once again some other day.

And yes, yes he does. Because this other night, let’s not specify it, because it was the beginning of so many other nights, Harry approached Louis’ flat and knocked on the door and what was that in his hands (that would later be touching Louis all over)?

A sweatshirt, in a size that would actually fit someone. And by someone I mean this special guy Harry met, named Louis. Yes, _this_ Louis.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some friends that helped me do this:  
> \- Dan  
> \- this box of 'celebrations' that I found beside my bed and it was like 1am so i ate them all and finished this
> 
>  
> 
> I am hoping I'll have the time, motivation, creativity and endurance to post another oneshot soon!  
> Thank you sosososo much for reading, I honestly appreciate it.  
> xx


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